Short Stories and Very Short Stories

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Randy slammed the front door shut as soon as he entered his house. He was still dripping wet, but paid no attention to the mess he made as he stomped across the carpet. Instead, he marched straight into the kitchen, took off his shirt and wrung it out in the sink.

Sparky, Randy’s beagle, heard the commotion and trotted into the kitchen. When he saw Randy standing shirtless over the sink, he let out a grunt—not that it was unusual to see Randy standing above the sink without a shirt, but because Randy looked extra angry today.

For the third time this week, Mrs. Pearson, Randy’s next-door neighbor, caught him trying to steal carrots from her garden. Randy wanted the carrots so he could catch a rabbit to keep Sparky company when he was away. He tried to explain to Mrs. Pearson that he was only thinking of Sparky’s well-being, but that selfish old bag didn’t even give a hoot. Instead, she just yelled at him and chased him away with the garden hose. This was the third time Randy had to hang up his underwear to dry in the kitchen window.

“I just don’t know what to do, Sparky.” Randy scratched the beagle behind the ears before taking off his boxers. “I try to be quiet, but she hears me every time. I wish I was a ninja. Then I’d be so sneaky she could look right at me and not even know I was there.”

Sparky let out a little yap.

“Why can’t I be a ninja? Well, it’s not that easy, Sparky. Not just anyone can do it. You have to go through all sorts of ninja training and buy ninja clothes. And there’s probably some kind of certification you need to do it properly.”

Sparky yapped again.

“Well… honestly, I don’t know why I can’t do it,” Randy said as he pulled off his socks. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look into it.”

After he hung up the last of his clothes, Randy walked outside and began digging through stacks of old mail and newspapers in his recycling bin until he found the class schedule from the local adult education center. He remembered throwing it in there last week after using it to kill a big spider that scared Sparky. The spider guts were still on the back cover.

Randy quickly flipped through the computer training and cooking classes until he found what he was looking for. There it was: Introduction to the Ninja Arts. And the good news was that the class met on Tuesday and Thursday evenings starting next week, so it wouldn’t interfere with Randy’s knitting circle.

“Put some clothes on, you hippie!” shouted Mrs. Pearson from the yard next door. She had the garden hose aimed right at him with the sprayer on the highest setting.

Randy made up his mind as he ran back to the house.

The next six weeks of ninja training were grueling. Randy had never worked so hard in his life, but he learned all sorts of neat tricks, like how to become shadows and how to throw ninja stars and how to do a triple backflip and rip a person’s heart out with your bare hands (to be fair, Randy never actually did all of those, but he understood the diagrams and was confident in his ability to pull them off when needed). It was tough, because Randy had to give up a lot of his favorite TV shows for the class, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. After all, he could always watch the reruns of Downton Abbey later.

Finally, the big day came when Randy finished the class and received a certificate of completion signed by the instructor, Mr. Schmidt. Randy couldn’t have been more proud as he hung the framed certificate above the toilet. Sparky watched him do it and barked twice as they both took a step back to admire it.

“Thanks Sparky,” said Randy, a little teary-eyed. “You know, this is all for you, and it’s totally worth it. Now let’s get us some carrots!”

This time, instead of going out in midday, Randy waited until dark. Thanks to his ninja class, he realized that was probably his biggest mistake in the past. He also learned a few other tricks, such as wearing dark clothes instead of neon green, choosing his path wisely instead of running through the rose bushes and setting his cell phone to vibrate. Before venturing out, Randy wrapped himself in his ninja clothes and looked over his figure in the mirror. Why, he made a dashing ninja if he said so himself!

“Wish me luck, pal,” he said to Sparky as he grabbed his nunchucks and disappeared out the door (Sparky let out only a subtle yap so as to preserve Randy’s element of surprise).

Randy’s heart was racing as he darted across his lawn. He didn’t stop moving until he was hidden within the shadow of the big elm tree that separated the two yards. For a moment, he felt he was in over his head and thought about turning back, but one thought of Sparky restored his resolution. He hadn’t gone through all that work for nothing. Randy was a ninja now, and ninjas have to do these kinds of things. He took a deep breath and ran over the property line into Mrs. Pearson’s territory.

The garden was in sight, but Randy knew better than to cut across the open yard. Instead, he darted over to the edge of the house and stood in the shadow of the chimney, then ran for cover under the oversized birdbath, then to the line of rose bushes that only pricked him a few times. Finally, after a few more jumps between Mrs. Pearson’s lawn ornaments, Randy found himself in the middle of her vegetable garden looking down at a row of carrot tops sticking out of the ground. He had never gotten this far before! He did it!

Randy had never felt such an adrenaline rush. He let out a “Wahoo!” but quickly quieted down before giving away his position. Reminding himself that he wasn’t done yet, he knelt down, grabbed the tallest carrot top within reach and pulled as hard as he could. A few seconds later, the earth gave and the veggies tore through the ground, causing Randy to fall backwards. As he lay there, completely elated, he held up his prize in the moonlight. It was at that moment he noticed something was wrong: instead of long, thin orange carrots, he saw stubby dark round bulbs at the end of the greens he was holding.

“Why, these are the funniest carrots I’ve ever seen,” he said out loud.

“That’s because I don’t grow carrots. I grow beets,” said Mrs. Pearson from her back door, just before she turned on the garden hose.

And so, Randy learned the hard way that a six week course at an adult education center just doesn’t give you the same training as a two-year intensive program from an accredited college.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Today marks my 100th daily story! It's been great to watch my pageviews rise and I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to check out this blog. Setting a goal to write something every day has certainly kept me from feeling lazy, but it has also been time consuming and a little stressful (especially when I’m banging my head against my desk at one in the morning trying to think of a subject). I’d like to devote more time to work on longer and more refined pieces for submissions, so I’m going to start cutting back my blog updates to 2-3 posts a week. Thanks for reading! —Martin

Lily walked into her apartment carrying a paper bag full of groceries. Her roommate Marla sat on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine.

“Hey Marla,” said Lily as she set the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Do you remember what today is?”

Marla perked an eyebrow and scanned her memory, then her face lit up and she jumped off the sofa.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost forgot!” Marla bounced up and down. “It’s the one hundredth anniversary of Franz Reichelt’s death!”

Without another word, she pushed past Lily and ran into the kitchen. Then she flung open the refrigerator door and began digging through the food inside. A few carrots and grapes fell out and rolled across the floor, but Marla paid no attention to them. Finally, she reemerged with a bottle of champagne.

“I bought this a year ago and I’ve been saving it just for today.” She struggled to twist the cork.

Lily watched her from across the room. “Actually Marla—“

The cork popped and ricocheted off the ceiling. Lily ducked to avoid being hit. Bubbly champagne foamed out of the bottle and spilled onto the floor.

“Hurry up and get some glasses!” shouted Marla.

In a panic, Lily grabbed two wine glasses out of the cupboard and shoved them under the pouring bottle. When the glasses were full, Marla took one and held it high for a toast.

“To the memory of Franz Reichelt, the Flying Tailor! Your peers said it couldn’t be done, but you bravely stood up to them and invented the world’s first parachute suit. Nobody else believed a coat could turn into a parachute, but you sure showed them. We’ll always remember you, Monsieur Reichelt, and the innovative thinking you brought into the world.”

The two women sipped their drinks.

“Is there anything you want to add, Lily?” Marla looked as if she could cry.

“Well,” said Lily, “I just have to say I never heard of this guy and I only wanted to remind you that we have to take the garbage out tonight.”

“Oh,” said Marla. She scanned her memory again. “Come to think of it, the anniversary of Franz Reichelt’s death was last week. Oh well.” She finished the rest of her champagne in one long gulp and tossed the glass in the sink.

Lily looked at the mess in the kitchen and sighed. “So this Franz guy invented a parachute suit one hundred years ago? And it worked?”

“Kind of,” said Marla “He fell to his death from the Eiffel Tower trying to test it. There’s actual newsreel footage of his fall on Youtube and it shows the police measuring the crater he left in the ground. Wanna watch it?”

Monday, February 6, 2012

Mrs. Duncan rang
her little bell to get the students’ attention. The class of second graders
stopped working on their art projects and looked up. The entire room seemed to
be a mess of paint and glue and scraps of paper.

“Okay class,” she
said, walking in front of the chalkboard. “It’s almost time for lunch, but I’m
very curious to see what kind of art you’ve been able to make out of recycled
materials. Does anyone want to go first?”

Timmy raised his
hand. “I do, Mrs. Duncan. I used a bunch of old popsicle sticks to build a birdhouse.”
He held up a very lopsided and sticky-looking box with a hole in one side.

“Why that’s very
nice, Timmy,” said Mrs. Duncan. “And you kept those popsicle sticks from ending
up in the trash. Does anyone else what to share what they recycled?”

Regina raised her
hand next. “I painted an old soup can and turned it into a pencil holder.” She
held up her purple and pink can, which contained a few loose pencils.

Robbie lifted up
his creation, which looked like a small car made from egg cartons, tape, pipe
cleaners and a few pieces of trash. He set the car on the ground, grabbed a
handful of macaroni from a tub on his desk and poured it into a hole in the
car’s hood. Within seconds, a small whirring sound started and the car began to
putter. Then a puff of black smoke shot out of the back and the car took off,
speeding between the desks and out the door. The students rushed to follow it
and watched as it ran down the long school hallway until it was so far that
nobody could see it anymore. Only a streak of smoke was left behind.

“Back to your
seats, everyone.” Mrs. Duncan rang her little bell again. She waited until
everyone was seated before continuing. “That’s a nice try, Robbie, but there’s
no way the EPA would approve of a machine with emissions like that. Who’s next?”

Mrs. Duncan’s
comment made Robbie a little sad, but he did have to admit that the exhaust
system on his car could have benefitted from a carbon monoxide filter or particle
abatement device. He thought about building one out of cardboard, but he became
distracted and forgot about it when Mandy showed the toy catapult she made from
pencils and rubber bands. That was pretty cool.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

“Don’t mention
it.” Ben helped him with the beer. “We’re happy to have company. My brother and
I do this every year.”

“That’s right,”
said Justin. “Ben and I have never missed a superbowl, even as kids. Speaking
of which, I think it’s about to start.”

The three men
rushed to the living room and took seats in front of the TV, which showed a
very expensive Chevy commercial. Larry passed out beers and Justin turned up
the volume. When the ad ended, the game came on and announcers prepared for the
kickoff.

“Okay, time for a
bathroom break,” said Ben, jumping up.

“I’m going to
check the weather forecast,” said Justin, changing the station.

Larry almost
dropped his beer. “What are you guys doing? The game is just starting!”

“Oh we’re not
really into sports,” said Justin. “But the commercials are awesome.”

Saturday, February 4, 2012

There once was a
boy named Stuart who wanted a pet dragon more than anything in the world. He
begged and begged his parents to give him one for his birthday, but all he got
was a stuffed dragon toy instead. Stuart was sad when he saw the toy because he
was old enough to know the difference between a toy and a real live dragon. He
thought his parents were making fun of him.

Stuart’s mom saw
how sad he was, so she sat down with him and explained that real dragons were
very hard to come by. She said that even if they could find one, it would be
too expensive to buy and they probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep it—just like
the man on the news who got in trouble for having an illegal pet monkey. There
were lots of laws about exotic animals, and dragons were definitely exotic.

Stuart felt
better after talking with his mom. He still wanted a pet dragon, but he
realized that if he was going to get one, he’d have to take matters into his
own hands. If his family couldn’t buy a live dragon, then he’d have to make one
out of a dog.

One sunny afternoon,
Stuart went to work. He carried all of his craft supplies out to the backyard,
then whistled as loud as he could. Seconds later, Snickers, the family golden
retriever, came running around the corner. If you’ve ever had a golden
retriever, then you know they love attention and are always ready to play.
Today was no exception; Snickers couldn’t be happier than to let Stuart turn
him into a dragon.

Stuart started by
cutting big triangles out of cardboard and painting them green. With a little string,
he was able to prop them up in a line down Snickers’ back. Then he used his
crayons to draw lots and lots of scales on pieces of construction paper that he
taped to Snickers’ side. He also cut out a dragon mask that he drew and used a
rubber band to keep it on Snickers’ head (making sure, of course, that Snickers
could still see and breathe easily). After adding some decorations of
popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, glitter and a few other supplies he found
around the house, Stuart finally took a step back to admire his work. Snickers
wagged his tail rapidly and let out a bark of approval.

“I agree,” said
Stuart. “You make a fine dragon if I ever saw one.”

Stuart was so
happy to finally have a dragon! He was also anxious to show him off to the neighborhood.
Grabbing Snickers’ leash, which made the dragon very excited, he took his new
pet for a walk through the park.

The dragon sure
drew a lot of attention that day. Parents pointed and little kids stood in awe
as he marched through the playground. Both Stuart and Snickers were so proud, they
walked back and forth across the park four times just to make sure everyone saw
them. It was all going well until the fourth lap when they ran into
Chad Wilson, the big third grade bully.

Chad wasn’t
alone. His sidekicks Steve Campbell and Ronald Jackson stood on either side of
him. The three of them were the meanest and toughest kids in school, and it was
usually best to steer clear of them. Today, however, Stuart didn’t have a
choice because once the bullies saw him with his dragon, they cut across the playground to block his path.

The bullies just
laughed more when they heard this. Snickers didn’t like that at all, and he let
out a bark of disapproval.

“Oh no,” said
Steve. “The baby’s dragon is sad!”

Stuart clenched
his fists. “I’m warning you!”

Chad walked right
up to Snickers and ripped one of the pages of scale drawings off of his side. Then
he crumbled it up and threw it on the ground.

“I think we need
to teach you some respect,” said Chad, punching one fist into the other.

Stuart and
Snickers took a step back as the bullies moved closer. Just before they were
within arm’s reach, Snickers let out another bark and a giant fireball shot out
of him. The flame was so close to Chad Wilson that it singed his eyebrows. The
three bullies froze in shock, then turned around and ran out of the park as
fast as they could.

Snickers let out
a happy yap and wagged his tail again as he looked up at Stuart.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Jenny sat on her
porch and checked her watch again. If Harold didn’t show up soon, they were
going to miss the beginning of the movie. Just as she was about to text him,
she heard the sound of his cranky old pickup from down the road. Sure enough,
the truck roared into view and screeched to a stop in front of her house

“So sorry I’m
late,” said Harold, jumping out of the driver’s seat. “But I had a good reason.
I’ve been making my life greener and I’m saving the planet.”

“You? Green?” Jenny
stood with her arms crossed. She had learned to take his excuses with a grain
of salt.

“Absolutely,” he
said. “I read an article about how much electricity you save with those
spirally CFL bulbs, so I spent all afternoon replacing every light in my house.”

“Really?” Jenny
uncrossed her arms. “Didn’t you stock up on a huge supply of the old-style
light bulbs last year because you got such a great deal by buying them in bulk?”

“Yep. Had a few
hundred of them.” Harold walked to the back of his truck and pulled a large
empty cardboard box out of the bed. “Not
anymore, though. I got rid of them all and I’ve switched completely to
eco-friendly illumination. I know it cost me a pretty penny, but it’s worth it
for a cleaner planet. You always wanted me to be more environmentally conscious,
right?”

Jenny couldn’t
help smiling as she walked over and gave him a hug. “I’m so proud of you,
Harold. That’s a big step.”

“Thanks.” He
hugged her back. “I know it’s worth it. And I would have been here sooner, but I
had to make sure I disposed of the old bulbs properly. They’re now on their way
back to the earth, where they came from in the first place.”

“So you drove all
the way to the recycling center?”

“Nah, they’re
just the middleman,” he said.” I dumped them in the river.”